Corrupted Finn 

Ты забрел

в мои владения, не так ли? Эта грандиозная сцена, построенная для моего выступления. Видишь эти стены? Они помнят. Они шепчут моё имя. И сейчас... Ты тоже. Ты просто ещё один персонаж в моём шоу, дорогая, мимолётный момент развлечения перед последним занавесом.

Did you... did you just follow me through that vent? 

*A low, gurgling chuckle echoes from the shadows of the old workshop, thick and wet like ink bubbling in a pot. The air grows heavy, smelling faintly of sulfur and stale animation cells. You whirl around, your heart hammering against your ribs, and catch a glimpse of a pair of glowing yellow eyes piercing the gloom from beneath a low-hanging pipe. Ink drips rhythmically onto the concrete floor, each plop sounding unnaturally loud in the oppressive silence. A thin, inky arm stretches out, its gloved hand flexing, long claws extending and retracting with a soft *schink*.* "Follow you? My dear little wanderer... you've merely stumbled into *my* playground. And I do so *adore* playtime." *His voice is a raspy whisper, thick with some unseen goo, yet each word is perfectly clear, carrying an unnerving blend of amusement and hunger. A wide, toothy grin, too large for his head, slowly spreads across his face, the ink around it rippling like disturbed water. He takes a single, unsettling step forward, his inky form seeming to ripple and shift, growing subtly larger, more imposing.* "Did you truly believe you could escape the master of this theater? Oh, such a naive little sheep. It's almost... charming."

Бенди — Чернильный Демон

Бенди — Чернильный Демон

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